


Star Residue Binds Us (But Our Flames Repel)

by Willow89star



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Eventual Mature Rating, F/F, Friendship/Love, Hurt, Major Original Character(s), Multi, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, kinda slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-17 01:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4647537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow89star/pseuds/Willow89star
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are twin flame/soul mates that meet and bond but they agree to be friends. It's a painful process for Clarke, as she watches and hopes Lexa wakes up and recognizes what they are. She knows she may have to settle for friends in this life and accepts this but the universe has a funny way of making sure things happen how they are meant to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Clarke's POV**

 

You make a mental note to remember this; all the pain and hurt and still being pathetically at someone’s mercy. You want to remember the cold, sharp, blistering shot through your chest when you read those words. How time became irrelevant and conversations around you became fragments. Your only focus was repeating mantras in your head to stay calm, breathe, don’t tap your feet, don’t look sad, smile – _grin at least, for Christ sake_ …breathe.

You barely remember falling in front of everyone because you weren’t paying attention. You just get up and keep walking like a robot. You aren’t hungry, and everything is muffled but at the same time, overwhelming – incessant chatter all around you. _Just stare at the menu – breathe_. And you do stare, for ten minutes, at the same drink. Pretty sure that water would make you puke at this point. Everyone is just talking – _don’t look so damn distraught_ …

When the waitress comes it’s like another person takes over; like you’re watching a play from the back stage. It’s her, the damage controlling, cool talking, straight faced “Survivor Clarke” - she’s good. Good eye contact with the waitress, good manners and a perfectly timed smile… she’s always good. You can read her thoughts from behind your curtain, but so can off the handle, don’t-give-no-fucks, “Reckless Clarke”; she’s waiting for her chance, if she gets one. The waitress has tattoos, shaved side hair, rainbow bracelet – she looked at your lips; you could definitely sleep with her. Plan B. _What is wrong with you?_

You just sit in that chair, waiting for a reply to your response to that message, after those words that brought all this unneeded chaos in your brain. You want to run – fast! The beach is right there across the street! It’s dark and secluded and no one can hear your crying over the waves and fair rides. _Just a few tears added to the salty abyss_. In the bathroom Octavia assures you that it’s ok if you need to go. She knows, and you know that she knows that you are crumbling inside – she can see it and you hate and love that about her. You take it – you go. Your dress is tight and the warm breeze kisses your face as the empty echo of your heels on the pavement reflect the feeling in your chest.

You walk with a purpose towards the lights and cheerful screams and smell of fried dough. It’s been one hour … still no reply. You never want to feel like this again, so you make it a point to remember everything about this night. Moments like briefly considering abandoning your trek to the ocean and instead, ducking into an old sea side bar. Reckless Clarke wants to; someone in there would be up for some fun. Survivor pays attention to her steps on the gravel, stays alert in the dark alleys, and keeps your chin high. Hurt Clarke can’t run fast enough and you – you sit there delegating who gets to do what when. _Remember this_ walking faster and taller to the fair area. You can smell the sea. _Avoid the bars_. You make the long walk to the bank, take out $20 that you shouldn’t spend and head straight for the food carts. You weave carefully through rides and people and trash. Couples, kids, elderly – faces everywhere. Survivor is walking like a broker on Wall Street and this may be the best you’ve walked in heels, ever. Reckless is making prolonged eye contact with any woman deemed over a “six” and Hurt is both giving Reckless permission and taking over your whole system with mounting panic. She needs to be alone – quick. You walk faster.

You want to remember the ache in your feet. The shoes constrict and burn and… **_you deserve it_**. And there she is. Self-hate, that mean bitch. Nothing you do will ever be good to her. Your feet hurt and you KEEP those shoes on, **_because you’re a fucking idiot for letting this happen to you in the first place – you deserve this!_** They almost all usually agree with her eventually. Even Optimistic and Confidence can’t seem to team up quick enough against her sometimes. As you sit and wait in line, they are all pushing and pulling and battling for dominance – Self-hate is winning. **_No wonder she peaced out! She probably would have just disappeared had you not said something. You are a wreck, look at you! She’s too good for you, she doesn’t need this – you. She read right through you, saw who you really are and said BYE_**.

She didn’t even say bye actually…that would have been considerate. Self-hate starts to feed off Reality Clarke and they are having at it while you sit there, uncomfortably, in line. Survivor, however, is doing fantastic. She even manages to look annoyed with the wait. She orders two corn dogs and some fries because Reckless wants shitty food now... _Who wants expensive seafood with your friends?_ And damn, is Survivor good. She manages to joke with the lady about working near ovens in the summer and something about hot sauce. A charming chuckle and a polite bid goodnight – so good. You have forgotten the conversation by the time you turn though. You shove the remaining $5 in your bra and head for the boardwalk. Hurt is winning right now and Survivor is tired, Self-Hate is gnawing, Reality is hammering and being held by Optimism. Rational Clarke is running around like a medic on D-Day and you, Clarke, are just a shell providing the motor skills to carry that bad food up the boardwalk in those aching shoes. You tell Hurt to just hold on a few more minutes.

 _Remember_ , you tell yourself. The boardwalk is quieter with the fair behind you now. As you top the stairs the breeze hits you with a wall of mist, the waves are louder but everything is muffled; everything but the loud clunk of your heels on the wood. _God, these hurt_. You pass the first couple on the bench, staring out at the sea – _**she played you**_ snaps Self-hate. Then the second couple. _**You blew it!**_ A faster pace, past the third and fourth group… _**You’re ridiculous**_ … **_She’s too good for you_**. You agree…

You head for the farthest and darkest part of the boardwalk. Past the last bench you stop to take those demon shoes off with one hand – the other balancing a pile of junk food, phone and sunglasses. You know you are being stared at by the middle aged couple on the bench. No girl dressed up in heels with a plate full of fair food, headed alone to the beach in the dark has had a “good day”. You don’t care. You are numb and overwhelmed and you have NEVER felt emotion like this before. All of the fragments of yourself inside are rolling into a garbled, uncontrollable mass and who is going to take over seems less and less predictable. You feel the cool sand under your feet and you can hear the ocean, its right there… but it sounds far – it feels far. You find a quiet place right next to a garbage bucket (Survivor is thankfully Logical’s good friend). There are people on the beach but they are more like shadows to your foggy mind. You slowly start putting a dent into the rather tasteless, kind of cold, bag or fries. Even your sense of taste is numb. You wonder, as you sit and look out at the sea, how pathetic you look to those passing by. You’re planted next to the trash, gnawing on a corn dog and dressed for a 4 star dining experience; _corn dogs are better than overcooked crab legs anyways…_

You are oddly calm while eating, considering the onslaught you thought you felt coming. It’s much darker now and there are less people around. The moon is full and high and it reflects a blanket of silver light on the shore. You decide to move from behind the confines of your hiding place and closer to the water. Once you are about fifty feet from the waves, you curl your knees in and try to keep the wind from blowing your skirt. The dress is a half a size to small (you borrowed it) and it rubs against the sunburn on your back. The stars and clouds meet the sea at the horizon, the waves that reflect the moonlight far off look miniature– a satellite sails through the atmosphere… and you feel tiny. You are just an item on the beach now, the dark consumes you, the moonlight caresses you; you feel obsolete.

Reality whispers as soft as she can that what you are experiencing and feeling have no weight on the world – it doesn’t matter. Really, even your friends only care so much. This insanity that are these emotions are your own personal hell to bare. Now you have to figure out how to go through this anguish and mask it. Hopefully your figure this out before they get sick of you. Sure they care – you’re scaring them! You have never let another human being affect you like this, and that quickly! it's breaking you and they can see it. That is the worst part – they are watching you and you hate it. They watch you from the corners of their eyes like any move you make may be the one that does you in and you snap. Eventually it will get old to them though. You try and pinpoint, as you stare blankly out into the horizon, when this happened? Where did you lose control? How can you get it back?

_When she walked in the door, you just knew. Your breath caught like it would in the first gust of a winter’s day. Your heart skipped and palpitated and everything went silent (just like in the movies). For a few brief moments you were caught in a slow motion roll of realizing who she was and your mind and heart for once agreed on something, “there you are – I found you”. You didn’t believe in this bull shit, ever. The idea of straight up affection and infatuation upon laying your eyes on someone always made you laugh and go on rants about Hollywood’s ways of marketing romance and ridiculous ideals that weren’t attainable. But there you were, system shocked and nerves electrocuted as that beautiful brunette walked and then tripped on the rug through the door. Dressed in her ACU uniform and burette still on and just…perfect._

You breathe in the salt air as you ponder over where it went wrong – what you did? You grin at the reminiscent feeling of being high when you were in her presence, but wince at the pain that strikes your chest when you realize that it may never happen again.

_She brought you coffee, at 7am after her workout…just because you said you hadn’t had coffee in a week. She had to be at formation by 8am and she decided to stop in between just to get you coffee. You couldn’t really wrap your head around the gesture as you stared at her Cheshire grin, like a kid that was handing her mom a school-made gift, holding an iced coffee for you._

_The next week and a half was full of lunch visits and coffee runs and constant texting and phone calls. She started calling you “love” and “babe” and “dear” (“dear”, like in Leave It to Beaver…) and you liked it! You never called anyone those things unless you were officially with them, so you stuck with “sweetie” as a neutral. Optimism was getting really excited at the fact that her words and actions were matching up but you still stayed an arm’s length away; a loose arm… that was holding her hand, but an arm’s length._

Hurt started to cringe and writhe inside. The memories were becoming too much because you know where it was ending – it was bitter sweet and painful. Hurt had warned you, and you didn’t listen.

_So, she was married – but unhappily married. They hadn’t lived together in eight months and had many fights; they were working on a divorce. That’s ok…people make mistakes._

_“I like how you kiss me” she says to you one day after a five minute make out session._

_“How I kiss you?” you ask confused._

_“Yeah,” she responds, “like… like you actually enjoy doing it”_

_You are shocked. You learn that not only was the marriage a shaky one but a seemingly, pretty dry one at that. You can’t imagine a person not enjoying every bit of her company and attention and make a conscious decision to make sure this woman knows, that at least from you, she is much liked and very appreciated._

That is where it went south, you think. You decided to show how you feel, you let the leash on your senses go a little too far – _**you let your arm down, damn it**_. A tear escapes the confines of your determination and falls down your cheek and the contrast of its cool wetness to your burning cheek is more noticeable in the cool breeze.

“ _You’re so cute when you’re protective” she laughs at you with a wide smile as the waves sway you both. Her legs are wrapped around your waist and your arms around hers. Another large wave rolls in and you turn your back to it, lifting her higher so she is not taken over by the salty wall of water. She laughs again at you and lays a light and wet kiss on your lips and for a moment all you can hear is the waves and her breathing, all you can feel is her skin and the heat of the sun. “You don’t have to do that, I can take care of myself you know – I am the commander” she giggles. And god, does that sound send you to Jupiter and back again in a second. You grin at the nick-name you have dubbed her because of the military, a nick-name she has taken a liking to. “I will always make sure you are safe while I’m around, my lady” you joke – but you mean it. You mean it with every fiber in your being and it scares you._

More flashes of playing fetch with the dogs in the yard, her body lying in the sun on the sand, the sun setting in the distance as you drive and she looks from the window to you and kisses your hand. Your tears can’t stop now.

“ _I don’t really want to sleep over tonight, sweetie” you say to her awkwardly over the phone, “I’ve just been having these bad dreams and I’m waking up in the middle of the night and I don’t want to scare or bother you with it…I’ll come over but I’m not staying”._

_You don’t want to get into what the dreams are or why they are happening – you want to keep her as far away from that piece of you as possible… you don’t want to lose her. She assures you that PTSD and nightmares are something she is used to and that she doesn’t care. You still don’t want to but you do go over, and you do stay. You do end up waking in the night but not at all as violently as you had been, but you jump at the dog not 5 inches from your face. You wake her. Panic runs through your veins and you are more than ready to apologize and grab your things placed strategically by the door (after they had been flung all over the room not 6 hours prior you made sure to place them together while she was in the bathroom). As you wait for the confused and scared looks from her, time stops – you can't breathe – this is it. You blew it._

_Instead, she takes your arm and pulls you into her chest softly. Sleepily, half awake and still disoriented, she rubs your back and kisses your forehead and offers quiet encouragement that you are okay, and she had you – and you believe her…_

The pain in your chest is burning. You thought, for a second…that maybe. But no. You start to feel sick and panicked. Attempting to even out your breathing was a lost cause and you let the tears roll (you haven’t cried for such a long time). Hurt was being too overwhelmed and Self-hate was just poking at her and laughing. You started to become frightened at the realization of how deep in you are.

_You knew she meant something to you the second she walked through your door. You knew you loved her when she murmured sweet subconscious things to you in her sleep (she was a pathetic sleep talker). But, you realized EVERYTHING that one night; the night you will never be able to come back from._

_She had fallen asleep on you as you both lay on the couch watching TV. It was dark and the screen was flickering scenes as your arm fell asleep and you didn’t dare move – you couldn’t imagine disrupting her. Her hair smelt like your favorite shampoo and her legs were intertwined with yours. Her light breathing and sighs gave way to light snores (you loved that) and you watched the light of the TV dance on the curves of her face; you were infatuated._

_The dog suddenly jumps up and knocks her leg, waking her slightly and you take this chance to try and coax her to bed. In her slumbered daze she softly refuses and lays completely on top of you, wraps her arms around you, nuzzles in under your chin and offers a light kiss on your neck. You knew then, as she fell fast asleep again, and the credits for the show rolled on screen, a rare piece of your heart that had been very guarded and buried deep (almost forgotten)…had been claimed. You didn’t know how or why, or if it could go away and be replaced by another – but it was now hers. You were undeniably, pathetically and dangerously hers - at her disposal. It was terrifying._

_Reality told you it was too soon; she may not feel the same. Reckless said “Fuck it! Let’s paint it on a water tower!” Logic and Reason were scrambling, trying to figure out what happened. Hurt was mumbling “shit” and “fuck” and trembling as she paced. Optimism was encouraged by all she had seen, Self-hate was screaming at you to not fuck this up **she will run when she really gets to know you, she will be like the rest!** And Survivor was desperately trying to find out how this woman made it past all her defenses. And You – YOU Clarke, to your core, down to your very being, wanted this. You knew this was her – the one you had seen in your dreams, the one you were connected to but hadn’t met. You didn’t want to believe it, the notion scared the hell out of you and you weren’t ready. You knew her – you knew her before, you would meet her again eventually – you had been hers forever and always would be. You could smell the residue of the stars and taste the lost centuries on her lips. She clouded your senses and activated them all at once. This was her – but this may not be the time… and you don’t know if you could survive the idea of waiting another life to have her._

You are IN LOVE with this woman after barely several weeks. In love…you – logical, focused, rational YOU. This woman managed to stun you upon walking through the door, melt the ice in your soul with a few grins and soft gestures, make you laugh and make you feel safe…she felt safe; she felt like home. You finally tasted what “home” could feel like, and you liked it and you wanted it and you didn’t want to lose it! She never tried to change you, never threw a negative comment about you, she actually scolded you for being negative to yourself. You fell for her and you WATCHED it happen – you allowed it! The moments you would stop yourself you let slip by. **_You let this happen and you deserve this pain_** yelled Self-hate, sounding a lot like Hurt for a moment. Logic, Reason, Hurt and even Survivor joined in; all your fragments were against you – a battle was raging inside.

Now, here you are – alone weeks later in the dark on the beach choking back tears and sobs, keeping a full blown emotional breakdown at bay. If you could just let a little of pressure out maybe the whole dam wouldn’t erupt. You checked your phone for a reply, even though you never felt a buzz – but just maybe. But there is not reply – just her last response that sent you into this spiral.

“ **So, I’m kind of talking to someone”** 8:02pm

You read it again and it hurts. The sharpness steals your breath and the dull pain lingers.

“ **Like seeing someone? That’s ok”** 8:15pm. You lie.

It’s not a lie really. It is okay for her to talk and date, sleep with, hug – do whatever with. You aren’t exclusive and never officially were dating. You just got over telling her how guilty you felt for sleeping with her while she was married, mid-divorce, and probably needing a friend...not whatever It is you both were. You do feel bad and do feel you should have treated the situation with more respect. However now, with how you are being ignored, has you wondering if you should be apologizing. Shes seeing yet another girl – obviously its not bothering her too much. So it IS okay for her to be seeing other people, so you tell her it is, but you are not ok; you are far from okay.

You go on to tell her that you had figured this was the situation, and that you didn’t want it to be awkward – there is no reason to ignore you over something so “childish” and you can all be adults… you aren’t freaked out. But you are freaked out and you have been since you had come back from your week long trip. You felt her pulling away and you felt it because her hook was so deep and the line was so tightly tethered to your heart. The very slightest nudge was felt. At first you thought that you were over reacting – you told Hurt and Self Hate to shut up constantly. You saw less of her, she took longer to respond. The “good morning” texts every day then stopped and that was the first real tug that hurt. Less smileys and hearts, less “loves”, “Dears” and “boos”. You hated when people used the term “boo”… but you adored it when she called you that. Towards the end pretty much everything stopped. It was a slow decent and you were familiar with it, but you didn’t want to admit it. Each tug to pull from you hurt and ripped and panicked you. And you stood there all the while, trying to look like none of them stung while frantically attempting to find the source. Her actions and words were now different and she was starting to resemble everyone else in your life. _**We told you**_. 


	2. Don't Forget What We've Been Through Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter - kind of a buffer to bridge us towards what starts in chapter 3. 
> 
> Basically Octavia is the best friend ever and knows Clarke too well - some light is shed on their friendship and Clarke's past. Octavia is again, the best supportive (and still protective) friend a girl could ask for. A brief and mild Linctavia domestic moment.

Octavia's POV

 

“I don’t think I can do this” she says with a raspy voice on the other end of the line.

Clarke is good at putting on a good face and acting like nothing is wrong, but you’ve known her for far too long – she’s battling tears already. The truth is, you aren’t so sure she can do this either. She’s been broken. After the last several years of turmoil with Finn ( _is that mellow dramatic? No – it was turmoil…he was a psycho_ ), her family, the death, the blame…and now this bitch - Lexa. Even the name makes you want to slit someone’s throat – then again, that could be the pregnancy hormones. She’s been buckling under the pent up damage and you are honestly surprised this hasn't happened a while ago - everyone has a breaking point. Who is this woman that has managed to snap your unbreakable best friend?

She is a bitch, you don’t care what type of nice stories you were told about her, or how she seemed when you met her. _UGH! She even fooled you_. You feel a deep burn and boil in your gut as you get frustrated with the fact that you weren’t able to alert Clarke to this woman’s misguiding’s. You fell for it, right along with her. And now… now your best friend, who was already on the brink of becoming a person you barely recognize, is driving to this woman’s house to basically plunge a figurative knife deeper into her heart. It hasn’t even been two months sense she broke it off with Finn and already another damaging blow.

You wanted to believe, for Clarke’s sake, that this was a real thing. She had slowly started talking about this Lexa woman not a week after moving to the area. You were skeptical, very skeptical, of what was going on – but she was eighty miles away and you couldn’t investigate for yourself. She was raw and vulnerable and damaged, in a totally different and unfamiliar place, and you wanted to know who was trying to take advantage of your babe. After a week or so you knew they were sleeping together; of this you were certain. The way she avoided answers to your questions and ignored any conversations about Finn. Your inquiries about her life gave way to vague and passive glimpses into what you knew was much deeper than she let on. It all directed your attention that she had started her predictable and unhealthy habit once again; find someone cute, flirt her ass off, become fuck-buddies and sleep off whatever demons inside she was battling like rabbits.

You hated it, and she deserved better, but it helped her move on with other functions in life and it had led her to be the success she is today (well…success she was). It was a common enough practice of hers you had watched happen over the years. Sometimes she ended up dating them for a while, mostly they were dropped after a bit, or stayed friends – but she never has had this type of a reaction. _It can’t be karma_ you’ve thought – she’s too respectful… the only person you know that makes pancakes for their one night stands.

She was a survivor and everything she did was out of survival or towards a means. It wasn’t exactly compatible with her real personality, but her life had taken so many turns she had been forced to develop certain coping mechanisms. Everywhere she went she made friends so _no matter where she is she'll have a place to go._ If you were her best friend she would go to the ends for you, but only if you’d been through some messy hell and back with her again. A _ctions, not words - prove yourself_. Her car always had blankets and supplies in it _always a place to sleep if needed_. You sigh – you know all her moves. She always had a boyfriend, or girlfriend, or “fun-friend”, because they were always a guaranteed place to sleep, or hide, or run to if needed. Stopping by and initiating a spontaneous adventure of sex, pizza, video games or travel was easier than explaining “why”. Why can’t you sleep at home? Why leave now? Why is your phone off? Why do you look like that? It didn’t matter if she wanted a relationship or needed a break, if it was good for her or not – she always had a plan (whether she realized she did it or not).

You sit there wracking your brain while listening to Clarke ramble, trying to figure out why you let this slip. Why was your guard down? How did this happen? 

_That day at the beach you were meeting her and her new “friend” for a day in the sun, you caught them walking down the road as you drove. At first you weren’t sure, but you knew they were in the area from what Clarke had said in her last text, and you would recognize that mat of blonde hair anywhere. They were holding hands… **friends my ass**. You half laughed as you drove up behind her and honked but what happened next damn near drove you off the road. She was smiling – actually smiling **her real smile** ; a smile you hadn’t seen sense the tenth grade or so. She would let a real grin or chuckle out here and there over the years, but never that full bodied smile that you had almost forgotten. She always, constantly, had her good smile on. The one that had been practiced and refined and tuned for any and all occasions, be it charming someone out of a brawl or cracking a joke at a funeral…her fake smile. She turned and beamed, practically lit up, as she basically skipped to the passenger side window and hugged Lincoln. “Hey guys!” she greeted as her blue eyes grinned at yours. _

_For a moment you were taken aback by the uninhibited joy that was practically oozing out of her. Her eyes sparkled, her nose wrinkled – that laid back, confident, free-spirited Clarke was staring back at you; you hadn’t seen her sense high school – you had missed her. The quiet and **of course** tatted up brunette that snuck up behind her caught your eye as she placed her hand on Clarke’s hip and looked into the car. She knew who you were, and you definitely recognized her from pictures you had received (obviously you were sent pictures – your opinion was needed). You both exchanged knowing stares for a couple of seconds before you were caught off guard by what happened next. Not only had Clarke sunk into the grasp the girl had on her hips, she intertwined her fingers with the woman’s as she joked with Jasper, who was sitting in the back, and lifted the hand to kiss it – in front of you – seemingly without even noticing! Clarke Griffin was not one for public displays of affection. She was all too aware of those around her and believed it was only considerate to ease people into the relationships she’s had that she was exposing others too. It was a product of being the only one held accountable for everything, be it family or life in general; always hyper aware that everyone was, for some reason, always aware of her and her actions. Even with Finn, it took a few days after they had stayed with her and Lincoln for a kiss or lap sitting to be seen. Then again, Clarke hadn’t really been involved with people who often acted like they wanted to be in public with her. You never knew why she constantly seemed to reel in people who seemed embarrassed to be with her, or disregarded her. The time she peppered Finn’s face with kisses at the bar and he pushed her away almost sent you diving over the table to slap some much needed sense into him; she was a gem and you were sick of seeing her treated like a piece of coal. It wasn’t like she was a push over either. An ex-soldier, college graduate - a woman who had spent her whole life defending herself and others – for some reason lacked any self-respect when it came to relationships. What killed you the most was the fact that it didn’t seem to hurt her when Finn pushed her away… she just accepted it; took one more shot of whiskey and of course - smiled. _

_Now, there she was, wrapped in the arms of this woman, who seemed to like having her there, laughing, joking – happy. **Well ok** , you thought, **let’s hope this works** … “She looks happy” Jasper chimed in half sarcastically, as they walked away together towards the beach. **Yes she does**. _

“Octavia!” Clarke half shouted into the phone. You snap out of your reminiscent state and slowly sit your pregnant ass into a chair. “I’m here” you assure, “little contraction…sorry” – you lie. You don’t know what to say to help her in all honesty. You want to tell her to fuck this bitch, _she doesn’t deserve your friendship or the pain that it’s causing you right now_. You would most definitely not have accepted an invitation to a party hosted by the woman who ripped out your heart – friendship deal or not – _Fuck that_.

“I just pulled up to the house,” her voice says lowly, “There are a ton of people here. I can get lost in the crowd if I need an out” _always an exit plan_.

“You have me to call” you assure her. Though you do have to go to bed by 10pm and your pregnant self isn’t exactly chipper if woken up. Lincoln walks by and gestures to you asking if its Clarke or not and you swat the air at him frantically to go away. He backs away and you roll your eyes.

“I already have Raven as an emergency call till about 3am” she laughs dryly back.

You sigh. Honesty has always been the best policy in your friendship – so you go with that. You stomach goes sour because you can practically feel the nervousness and pain in her voice, you can see the look in her eyes (you’ve seen it countless of times before). It’s the same look she had the first time her mother kicked her out of the house, _the beginning of the couch surfing era_. The same look that cemented on her face every time she walked into your house or anywhere really, knowing there were bruises showing… _always a well thought out, convincing and believable story for each one_. The look she got when your mother would ask her if she wanted to stay for dinner – because she wanted to – but she was scared. _She started working at food joints after your family moved away_. It was the look of someone that knew they were going to get hit hard by life, square in the jaw, had accepted it and made peace with the fact, and were just waiting for the inevitable to come.

“I know you feel like you have to do this,” you start, “like you have to call her bluff or whatever so I respect that. This is going to suck some major balls and I think you are insane, you know this, but if anyone can take a knock square on the chin like this night will most definitely be, and keep a grin on their face…it’s you.”

There is a short silence on the other end. “Yeah” she dryly replies.

“Clark you don’t hav….”

“If I want to keep her in my life I need to show her that I can be a “friend”, while also avoiding looking like a total dipshit for assuming…” she trails off. “…and do what I said and not be awkward.” She rebounded sharply.

“You’re right” you support. _You’re not a dipshit, she lead you on…_

“…the other one. That other girl is going to be in there…” she trails off again - raspy.

“Probably.” You say annoyed, “If Lexa is going to stay consistent with these bitch ass moves she’s been making then yes, the other one will be there” _Like a true bitch. A true, scheming, twisted bitch. She knows too, he fucking knows this is messed up!_

Another round of silence lulls in the air as you fight to quell the burning need to jump in your car and go to this party with her – pregnant belly or not, you want to kick Lexa in the teeth for this. You can hear Clarke’s engine cut. “Are you good?”

“Yeah.” She says, in an almost alarmingly different tone, “Don’t worry about me calling,” she says with a giggle, “I know better than to wake up a pregnant woman. Ill text you tomorrow morning and we can talk when you’re out of work, ya?”

You sigh internally and half shake your head. No trace of anything but cheerful and bubbly Clarke in her voice. “Yeah, of course – I need to know how this soap opera ends” you joke. She laughs... _her party laugh_. “Love you babe, Night!” she kissy sounds through the phone and you hang up; _she’s put her smile on_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, just a buffer/bridge chapter. More Clexa in chapter 3. Lemme know what you think.


	3. Side by Side and Worlds Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided to split what's as going to be chapter three in half.
> 
> Clarke goes to the party and Is doing her best to stay true to her word and be a friend. We get a little bit of Lexa's POV. The party gets real interesting in chapter 4.

**Clarke's POV**

 

You take a deep breath after you hang up with Octavia and just listen to the stagnant silence in your car, your heart beat… “Fuck…” you sigh. _This is going to suck_. You made peace five miles back with the fact that no deep breathing or loud music would shake this sick feeling in your gut and you just accept that you’ll have to work around it for the night.

As you step out of the car the beat of a bass in the house hits your ears and you watch as a few people mingle outside to smoke, drink and talk – party. You quickly scan the outside as you walk up the lawn for any familiar faces, but there are none. You know her team will be inside, you know some of them, but it’s a tight knit group and you are pretty convinced they all see you as “the crazy bitch Lexa banged”. _Yet another socially awkward thing to maneuver around tonight_. It’s actually a pretty big party – you’re surprised. Lexa isn’t exactly the party type; but she likes people to like her and to have fun – despite what she prefers. _How do you know that?_ Regardless, you know exactly the persona you will have to take on to survive this party, and you’ve prepared yourself.

You fluff your hair a bit and pass a group of three and flash a smile - two raise their beer cans to you. “Is this where the cool kids hang?” you joke, _not ready to go inside yet_. The conversation opener works and one guy grabs a beer can from the back of the pickup and tosses it to you. “Too cool for school” he replies. You pop open the beer and take a sip with a slight side grin _stupid comeback for a stupid opener_. After a short bit of small talk you jokingly make sure there is a place with the “cool kids” for you later and they assure you that they will make a place for you. Reckless winks and keeps eye contact with one guy in particular. _Start setting up some options now_. You head for the front door as Survivor preps for the initial entrance. She was ready but desperately trying to coax Pride from her hiding place; she will be needed. But as of now Pride is barely visible and refusing to make an appearance – looks like you’ll have to deal for now. You had a double shot of whiskey before you drove over and are now down your first beer – the sting of entering and greeting and smiling (while trying not to puke or scream) should be dulled. You take a deep breath in and push the door open.

The music becomes much louder and you can practically feel the beat in the air. It’s a bit more stuffy than outside, but you are hit with that familiar smell – her smell. The couch where she fell asleep on you, the table you dumped pasta on, the lip balm on the fireplace mantle. _Oh my God that’s my lip balm on the mantle! Fucking great start…_

The game is on the big screen and the dogs come racing to the door at you, but no human notices you - thankfully. You happily drop to your knees and accept all the sloppy wet noses and kisses they have to offer. _At least they are happy to see me._ As you are dishing out ear tugs and belly scratches you look up and catch that bright, familiar smile. For a glimmer of a moment you go warm, only to be sharply reminded by Reality where you are – what is happening. Self-hate scoffs in the corner of your mind _**fucking idiot - already a sucker.**_ You quickly check yourself, your posture, your smile, your demeanor and you offer up a head nod. As much as you want to run to her, kiss her and swallow that smile whole, you don’t – you can’t. You are friends and friends don’t do that. You made the decision on the drive over to just treat her like one of your “guy friends” and see how that worked out. _Take your initial reaction and turn it back 4 notches_. So, instead, you wave a little as you remove your shoes and she nods back, grin beaming, holding two beer cans and shrugs with that adorably stupid face she does. _Fuck_. When you look up she’s disappeared and you take this as a chance to weave through the crowd and out of site. You find your way to the couch and sit on the edge. _Breathe – worst part is over_ (or so you think).

You attempt to make meaningless, empty conversation with a woman next to you who stuffing her face full of pizza, only to realize she is part of the soccer team. _Great_. **_She’s probably thinking “there’s the pathetic, clingy chick” – you know they laugh about you, right?_** Self-hate is easy to ignore though, with so much going on around to distract you. Survivor is doing fair at portraying an aloof, party like air about her but Hurt is obsessing over the fact that Lexa didn’t even come to greet you – just a nod… _like you’re frat buddies_. **_To be perfectly fair, you didn’t make an effort to greet her either,_** argues Rationality. So, you sit there, staring at the screen like you are actually into the game, breaking down every detail of the last five minutes in your head. You quickly realize that this is about to be a very long night. You break out of your daze when your phone buzzes and you look to see Raven’s toothy smile in the icon.

“ **It’s 9pm Princess. My phone is officially on loud and will be no more than one foot from my hands till you leave the lion’s den”** 9:00pm (followed by a second text filled solely with kissy face and sunglass emoji’s). You grin – _adorable idiot…(you do have the best friends)._

Suddenly a large body plops down next to you on the couch, knocking you half off and you almost spout off on the jerk for being an ass-hole but… _oh, thank God!_

“Wells!” you squeal. Someone you know, a familiar face – and a smiling one at that. He laughs at you and wraps you in a big hug and for a moment you are actually relieved.

“Hey girl! What are you doing here?” he asks, eye brows arched.

“I could ask you the same” you retort back.

He explains how he is friends with a guy who is friends with Lexa (all military connection – always in this town) and was wanting to watch the game. After a few minutes of quick catching up and more hugs (an admittedly lighter air now with a friendly face) he sets off on a mission to find some more booze, leaving you alone. You sit there and grin, happy to have a friend to attach yourself to for the night and you watch the game waiting for his return. You were on the way to being “fine”. You had grabbed a handful of chips and were actually paying attention to the game after one of the more friendly team mates greeted you and wrapped you in a hug. Survivor was more than personable and making conversation easier now with the people sitting around you. Though, Reckless did break out a tiny bit and started flirting with the pretty blonde, you managed to keep her at bay. _She is cute though – option #2_.

Reality was doing a good job at keeping you on point and Hurt, so far, was sitting quietly to the side; trembling, but quiet. You were sailing pretty smoothly and Optimistic began to gain some confidence on how the night was turning… until a pair of familiar tattooed arms wrapped around you from behind. The same smell of shampoo you remember that night…the night you can’t take back – the smell that brought so many memories. Then a painful and yet soothing kiss on your cheek. “How are you?” she asks softly in your ear. _**Ya, how are you Clarke?**_ (fucking Self-hate) _Well, now you are dying inside._

Apparently, your comfort and confidence was superficial at best. You want to run straight for the door or turn around and kiss her back. You want to hold on and BEG her to not let go and scream in her face for even touching you – _after everything?_  There's Anger – she sprinted by…it’s been a while. Thankfully you had trained all your pieces to be prepared for something like this. The universe has a tendency to slap you with ironic or Murphy’s Law type situations and so you are schooled in counteracting them. Survivor, Rational and Logical all step to their places; _let the show begin_.

You smile and give a warm and friendly hug backwards and claim that you’re good, but “tired”, because you are. Tired of the back and forth, the guessing, the stress – the pain. Suddenly every breath you take feels like sandpaper on an open wound. But you told her you could be friends. You told the woman you love that it was ok with you for her to be with other people, and to have her as just a passing acquaintance in your life – and now she was testing you. You know she is testing you - _she’s done it before_ ; it was long ago and it is barely a whisper in your memory, but some time ago, some centuries before – she has done this. This was a test and you, Clarke, are an ace at tests. Pride actually steps out of the shadows and links arms with survivor and a knowing glimmer flashes through your eyes as you lock sights with hers. You decide you are going to be the most fun and most personable friend in this whole house of people – _challenge accepted_.

 

**Lexa’s POV**

 

You saw her car park out the front window and your stomach turns, both from nervousness and a little pang of…was that - _did you miss her_? No, you’ve known her for a month… almost two – you didn’t even know her last name till week two. Your house has been steadily filling for the past hour with Army buddies and Soccer friends and the crowd behind you is starting to become congested in the living room. You make your way, weaving through the bodies to the stairs and climb _hate crowds – at least they are having fun_. Luna catches you before you hit the top of the stairs and you throw her a grin and hold your finger up – you’d be right back. You shut the door behind you in the spare room and head for the closet with all the extra solo cups and napkins. When your arms are filled to the brink with supplies you turn to make your way back into the chaos, but something catches your eye. A half pinned back shimmer of blonde practically signals you from the yard through your window and you stop. It then becomes apparent to you how much quieter it is in the room with the door shut and you can hear your own heartbeat. You stand there, arms full of party necessities and you watch as she chugs down a beer amongst a group of three guys – all looking at the faded black and red t-shirt, like vultures. _They are in for a surprise if they get to know her_ …but you don’t even really know her – what are you talking about? Still, _why do they have to be like that_?

You furrow your brow making note of each guy because you don’t know them; you’ll be watching. You lose yourself in the quietness and your mind as you watch her gently nudge one man’s arm with her finger tips and she offers a bashful giggle – _bashful but always confident_. You grin.

Suddenly your focus is broken with a wave of loud music and rush of panic as you realize you had been lost in a daze. “There you are!” exclaims Luna with a half concerned look on her face. “The guys are asking about the cups – we want to start the game”. You smile and offer an apology, “I think I grabbed more than I could hold on to…” – you lie. She smirks at you and saunters closer, and as she stares you in the eyes, grabs a few things from your hands and lays a soft kiss on your cheek. “Always tryin to be impressive” she says with a slight drawl. With that, she spins around and prances towards the door…and you follow slowly behind and down the stairs.

Five minutes later you have handed off the supplies to the people in charge of beer pong and have assumed yourself organizer of the beer in the fridge. _Damn OCD_. You have a control problem, you know this, but your mind will be better at ease knowing things are in order amongst all this chaos. Luna gently grabs your sides from behind and whispers a request for you to deliver a few beers to the guys setting up when you get the chance. You smile and squeeze her hand – shes so sweet, and adorable and…suddenly the dogs barge past you and almost knock Luna over. She laughs it off and heads the opposite direction as you cock your head around the doorway to see what they are so excited about. And there she was, on her knees, offering generous love back to the fur babies that were giving a no mercy assault of kisses and nose nudges. They were practically knocking her over and you start to close the fridge to go help but then she laughs. You hear it, over the music and the chatter and the ramblings of the commenters on the TV. No one seems to notice but, you hear it. _**Stop staring before you look like a complete idiot!**_ Appearances scolds - your right hand personality in work and in life. She is flawless when leading soldiers, perfect at convincing people you are who you say you are, and best friends with Logic, Reason and Survivor. She is what has molded you into the soldier that you are and she is the ring leader of all your pieces. She keeps you, Lexa, in check when you’re at risk for ruining everything you have worked for and wanted; you depend on her. **_She was a rebound and a stepping stone toward your next move in life – you avoided an emotional disaster – you both jumped too quickly. She’s fine._**

You quickly grabbed three beer cans and head toward the front door, for the garage – toward her. You don’t know why you chose to do this NOW of all times, you could have waited, but halfway to the front door and you’re already regretting your decision. You hope you can move fast enough to avoid her gaze and duck behind some guests. _You knew she was coming, you invited her,_ you tell yourself. It probably wasn’t the best idea but you hadn’t heard from her in a while. _It’s your own fault, you ignored her like a child._ It caused light panic when she asked if you wanted to hang out that evening – so you just invited her. You didn’t think about Luna being there, or that the situation would definitely be awkward, at best. Then again someone had to put a stop to it all – and Clarke certainly was not going to. That was made apparent after she bought you flowers for your garden and prepared a spa day at home as a thank you for the date you brought her on. _Was that a date?_ You shake your head. You two were acting like a seasoned couple after a few weeks and it was all… _just too fast – not real_. Both fresh out of bad relationship, both starting new life paths – _**you just happened to be there for each other and served practical “purposes” for one another – the feelings that went along were results of your insecurities and vulnerabilities**_ (and Logic makes another valid point).

You made yourself a promise that after the wreck of a marriage with Costia that you were only allowing positive things into your life; you had a plan and a dream. Clarke however, crash landed into your lap and was anything but simple (and quite the flirt). You could see the hints of negative behind her veil, but she worked overtime to keep you away from those “things” and avoided you having any contact with anything but sunshine and butterflies with her. You don’t know what bothered you more, the idea that she may be a little messed up _**and not for you**_ (Ugh, Logic) or that she didn’t trust you. Then Luna came into the picture; successful, pretty, fun and you had so much in common. Clarke, on the other hand, was living with her adopted sister of some sort (you still haven’t quite figured that family dynamic out yet) and was still looking for a job. Yes, she was smart and successful before, and probably would find her way again but… _you just aren’t on the same page in life right now_. You have been repeating that mantra from Logic and Reason over and over for a week now.

As you make your way closer to her, through the wall of people you hope and pray in your head that she doesn’t look up. Just as you are about to round the stairs and towards the garage – she does. Her eyes pierce you and your brain literally short circuits for half a second. In that quick moment flashes invaded your mind of those eyes laughing…

_She threw her head back and you could feel the shaking of her chest on your back. Her laugh was a deep one, like it came straight out of her soul and she wrapped her arms around your neck tighter as you adjust your body closer into hers._

_“Ohhh my god, you made me laugh so hard I’m tearing up” she exclaimed, “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.”_

_You lean your head back into her shoulder and attach her lower jaw with soft, playful kisses. She interlaces her hands with yours and looks out at the oceans horizon and sighs. She sighs a lot – when you’re watching TV, when you’re driving, here on the beach....You can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing._

_“What are you thinking?” you inquire as you study her eyes that are so intently burning a hole into the far off distance. She sighs again and kisses your head. “Just how long its been since I’ve been happy to just sit with someone like this…and just be.”_

_You understand._

 

Winking…

_What was supposed to be a quick run to the grocery store became an all-out recon and observation mission as soon as she caught view of the seemingly very confused old woman near the door. You saw her notice the old lady when you entered, and caught her stealing concerned glances down every isle with the view of the elderly woman in blue. She looked like a puppy concerned for her owner and you couldn’t take her worried silence anymore._

_“I’m sure she’s waiting for one of her kids to finish shopping because walking around is too much” you say._

_She looks at you, half surprised you noticed her noticing, and looked again at the old woman in the distance, “Or she’s lost, or confused…” she said lowly._

_When you get into line for the register the old woman had taken to pacing and even you had to admit – she looked very worried and very lost. Clarke was literally fidgeting now; she had a soft spot for the elderly. She had a soft spot for anyone that couldn’t help themselves. You had already experienced her befriending a clearly schizophrenic man on the bus and she actually walked him all the way to the hospital – not gave him directions – walked him. They talked about baseball and peanut butter the whole time because, why not? She was close with her grandmother (from what you could gather from her fragmented comments, the woman practically raised her). She finally gave you a kiss on your cheek and told you she was “just going to check” when the woman wandered through the doors and into the parking lot. Yup… it was going to another one of those outings._

_Turns out the lady was, indeed, an escaped and now lost dementia patient and it was a fortunate thing that Clarke decided to follow her. She somehow managed to convince the elderly woman that she was her friend Loraine, the nurse… from World War Two, and that the van that came to pick her up twenty minutes later after your phone call was to bring her back to the barracks. As you wrapped your arm around her waist and waved to the van driving off you ask her jokingly, “So, being a super hero is a thing you do?” She chuckles and turns around to face you with an arched eye brow. “Not super hero,” she responds, “just one human helping another human out” and she winks as she takes your hand and leads you to your car._

 

 

Pupils Blown…

_You had been waiting all night to get your hand up that skirt. Not the most chivalrous of intentions, you will admit, but when she showed up at your house with a bag of spa things, a bottle of wine and 5 inch heels – chivalrous and respectful isn’t exactly what you thought she had in mind. “It’s a thank you,” she claimed as she drew you a bath, “for taking me out and showing me a nice time. I don’t have a job or money to return the favor so – I thought – this would be a decent gesture.” It was._

_She prepared a home cooked meal as you relaxed in your heavenly smelling bath, sipping on wine and letting the aches of the last week in the field melt away. This was nice. More than nice – this was thoughtful; more thoughtful than your wife ever was and way more thoughtful than you expected a person you’ve only known for a month to be._

_You exited the bathroom a half hour later, dressed in the comfy clothes she laid out for you and quietly followed the sound of Frank Sinatra serenading the house. As you peeked around the corner of the kitchen you are met with a vision that felt all too familiar and right – it surprised you. There she was, heels finally shed in the corner by the sink, swaying and humming to the song – blissfully unaware of your watching; she took a sip of wine and stirred the pot some more. She had made herself at home and you were oddly, alarmingly…okay with it._

_Now, here you were, four hours later – pinning her against the wall and hand up her dress. The straps of her bra were falling with the rest of the upper part of her outfit and she quickly turned her head as you were kissing her neck to catch your ear in her mouth. Hot breath invaided your hearing as you used your free hand to cusp the back of her neck and pull away from her assault. You lean in for another deep and mangled kiss and as your hand slinks farther toward her center. In response, she latches on to your bottom lip with her teeth and lets it go with a pop._

_“…Lexa….shit…Oh my God...” she sighs, breath erratic and chest heaving._

_You trail farther till you feel the lace fabric of her panties and your tuck your fingers under the waist band with the pink bow._

_“Lexa, Baby – Please jus...” you cut her strangled plea off with another kiss._ **_She only calls you “baby” when your fucking_ ** _pokes Skeptical,_ **_that’s a red flag._ ** _You don't care, you like her calling you that._

_Before you can even think to shake it off, you are surprised by Clarke taking hold of both your arms and shoving you off the wall and onto your bed. You lay there stunned by the underestimation you had of her strength and watch as she slowly steps towards you, letting her dress fall, with a smirk on the corner of her lips. She gets to the bed and crawls, no - prowls, on top of you and presses her forehead against yours._

_“No more playing around, Commander” she grins. The light of the moon that’s shining through your window catches her eyes and you are faced with prettiest blue storm you have ever witnessed, thundering behind lustful, blown, black orbs._

 

And…crying? You wince at the confusion and yet, there is a fragment of a memory of her crying… But she’s never cried in front of you.

_You are holding her. Its dark and you smell something you have never smelt before but its familiar – definitely something out of nature – like the forest and mold. As you kneel in front of her and hold her head into your shoulder you can feel the shutter and shake of her body from the sobs that are rippling out. You are concerned – you know that much – but why she is crying you can’t quite tell. All you know is when she looks up from your embrace and you’re met with red, soaked and glistening blue eyes – it makes you feel helpless. You hate feeling helpless – you hate her crying._

The memories strike like a lightning bolt and you suddenly need to abort the path your feet are taking you - fast. You are immediately very Closterphobic. She looks at you with a familiar grin but it suddenly changes to an unfamiliar mask of indifference. The light in her eyes, the thing that you loved about her, blew out and she nodded a cold gesture your way. It was like a switch went off, and how quickly and easily she seemed to do it made your stomach curl – it disturbed you. You smile her way anyway and clumsily resort to shrugging your shoulders. She waves. As soon as she looks down to remove her shoes you bolt as fast as the crowded room would allow into the small bathroom and shut the door. You turn the lock on the handle and lean against the wall – three beers still in hand. Guilt and Conscious sit beside you – _**She’s not okay.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So maybe Lexa isn't a total cold hard bitch. Will she panic? Will she act in a way that will hurt Clarke more? Can Clarke keep her pieces in order and not go totally off the hinges tonight? We shall see...


	4. Sorry for the hold up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some set backs

Hey all. I'm so sorry that I havnt written. After my vacation my family was hit with a death and I moved 1000 from home - it's been crazy. Not looking for sympathy at all just informing all you great people who have chimed in and supported this story that new chapters will be coming... I'm just readjusting my life right now. 

You are all great - stay tuned!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. Be gentle, I've never done this before.


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